


Battered

by initium_vitae_et_mortis



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Depressed Will Graham, Fear, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, M/M, Murder, Night Terrors, Running Away, Self-Esteem Issues, Someone Help Will Graham, Will Graham Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/initium_vitae_et_mortis/pseuds/initium_vitae_et_mortis
Summary: Will thought he had a friend, that everything was starting to get better. He was wrong. With all his hopes shattered, he probably did the only thing he shouldn't have done, he ran. He didn't know Hannibal was coming after him.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 263





	Battered

He didn't know when this thing, which he thought was a curse and others saw as a gift, started. He didn't know when he started to feel like blood was on his hands, like he was in the same mind with killers. All he knew was that all these things, all these responsibilities, was surrounding his mind like smoke. He was desparate, and because the door was locked on him, he was only left to bear his fate.

He was a little hopeful when he applied to the FBI. He thought that his curse would give hope to the lost souls of dead people. It would have worked out for someone.

But the result was not like he thought. 

The evil side of his fate had shown it's face again and he got rejected because he was unstable.

Still, he tried not to show it to people, and they didn't care. But that didn't stop him from having nightmares every night. Every night, the black silhouettes came and took his breath away.

He kept to himself, stopped looking into people's eyes. He agreed, knowing it would only get worse when Jack came and asked him for help.

Maybe a little part of him liked to torture himself.

Then he met a man. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who tried to solve him like he was a puzzle when they first met. At that moment he hated that man and hurried out of the room in the hope of never seeing him again.

Nightmares increased, lost souls increased, heaviness increased. A new silhouette joined the night terrors, stag man. His horns were sharp enough to pierce his heart, and he could see his soul, even if he don't have any eyes. He repeatedly said Will's name as if it were a lullaby and clutched Will's ankle, then he quickly pulled him to where the other silhouettes were.

That night, Will woke up gasping for breath and had a panic attack. He hugged Winston in the pain of having no human to hold his hand by his side and comfort him. Buried his face in the thick fur of the anxiously whining dog as he tried to remove the malformed bodies from his brain.

Soon after, he found himself on Dr. Lecter's doorstep because of Jack. The man looked at him with the same gaze and pulled away from the door to let him in.

They talked, they talked, they talked...

Will's cynical speeches been replaced by confidence with time. Will told him about his fears, his hopes, his nightmares. He saw that Hannibal cared for him like no one else did, listening like no one else did. Yeah, nobody listened to him like that. Only his ideas about the who might be killer were important for Jack, and he was no more than a deranged person who needed help for Alana.

For the first time in life, he felt he wasn't alone. When he woke up from his nightmares, he can tell somebody. He was still scared, still bloody faces were stealing his breath, but now he had someone to call his helper, his friend against the silhouettes and stag man. He is no longer had to face the darkness of his empathy alone.

He started to take the drugs Hannibal gave, had less and less nightmares, smiled and made eye contact. Lifeless bodies didn't made him feel so responsible anymore. All he felt was the excitement of the way they died, and it didn't worry him that he didn't feel a moment's guilt about it. He didn't even think to question the satisfied look on Hannibal's face when he told this to him. All he could think about was that someone had finally accepted him for who he was.

Will didn't fight back that night when stag man pulled him. He watched the grey clouds as he dragged on the bloody forest grass. As the silhouettes ' hands wandered through Will's body, he kept his eyes on the stag man and felt peaceful in a nightmare for the first time.

Will knew that it would not be possible to feel so happy for so long, that sorrow would return with a double. That's what happened. Over time, the stag man of his nightmares became more and more apparent as he examined the people killed by the same killer. 

One night, he totally showed who he was. His horns disappeared, his eyes and hair came out, his skin color changed. He...he became more and more like someone Will knew. The one he thought was his friend, the one he trusted and told everything about... 

That night, Will ran to the bathroom with his churning stomach and vomited repeatedly as he remembered all the meat he ate at Hannibal's house. Yet the taste of human flesh did not leave his mouth.

He fell worse than before. He didn't leave the house, he didn't answer anyone's phone, he couldn't even eat unless he had to. Every time he put a bite in his mouth, he thought of the meat he ate at Hannibal's, the meals he enjoyed, while not knowing which part of the people in his mouth. He felt sick. He vomited again and again.  
  
His door was knocked repeatedly. Alana came, Beverly came, Jack came. He wanted to open the door and grab them by their collar and shout the whole truth in their faces. He couldn't do it. He just curled up in his bed and tried to bury the disappointment, the sadness and his broken heart so deep, so he can forget.

It didn't happen.

He went out again. He examined the victims while he knew who his killer was. He went to his sessions with Hannibal. He tried to smile. None of it felt real. Because he acted in every one of them. He allowed Hannibal to watch him again with his usual gaze but never showed him behind his walls again. 

Nothing fixed him. 

So he stopped the act, stopped trying to smile, stopped going to sessions and work. One morning, he called Jack and told him he is quitting, and after leaving everything about his job at his house, he packed up his things and left with his dogs. On the way he saw Hannibal calling him but he refused and turned off his phone completely.

He took a break a few times, came to a small seaside town, and rented a house from a grumpy man. It was the first time he felt safe when he walked into the house and put himself to bed. No one could find him here, and the walls were thick enough to hide the screams he made when he woke up from the night terrors.

He started living there. He made money by fishing and selling them, walked his dogs on the beach. He felt like he was drowning as he thought the people who had died because of him, hiding the killer. He tried to relieve the feeling of drowning by looking at the sea. 

It worked sometimes but at nights, he woke up in a worse state every time.

Sometimes he didn't get out of bed for days after making sure his dogs had enough food. He buried his head under sheets and spent days thinking and trying to figure out what decision he had made in his life had set him on a path that would make him feel so cursed. He had so many wrong decisions that he couldn't decice which one was worse.

On one of those days, he woke up at night with his dogs scratching at the door while whining. He listened in confusion, but could hear no more than his dogs sound. He got out of his bed and walked to the door with cautious steps, not to bother for a moment to wipe his sweaty body.

He opened it slowly and closed in a hurry but as quietly as possible so his dogs wouldn't come out. Finally his dogs' voice waned, he headed towards the source of the strange clicking sounds his ears began to hear. He turned the corridor and what he saw caused his heart to beat fast. There were traces of blood on the floor from the entrance of the house to the kitchen, looking fresh. As soon as he closed his eyes, he couldn't prevent the images that his empathy ability had filled his mind. A corpse with blood on it's face, the person who dragged it into the kitchen as if it were a sack, the red path that was rendered to the ground as it dragged on. Blood, blood, too much blood...

He opened his eyes and followed where the blood went with trembling limbs, the voices increased. Like... it's like something's being cut with a knife. 

The voices grew, it became harder to walk and the road seemed longer than it was. It was like he was going to his own death. He didn't run, though. He approached to kitchen door and saw the person he knew very well who he was. The one that made him feel like he was pulling him out of the well first, then leaving his hand when he was about to come out. Hannibal Lecter.

Will watched the man with the horror that permeated his body, the way he is skinning the human arm and then expertly tearing it apart.

He stood frozen. The man was working so normal, as if the piece of meat in his hands was not belong a human being who was alive hours ago.

Hannibal suddenly paused, raised his head slightly and smelled the air. Will heard a voice he hadn't heard in a long time. 

"Hello Will." Hannibal put the meat on the counter and reached out to pick up another severed limb. "I am very sorry about your landlord but he was quite rude when I asked for the key to your house, and I have no patience for rudeness." 

Will watched with big eyes while Hannibal cut the limb hard like he is really showing that he hate rudeness.

Will was rude too. He didn't answer Hannibal's calls. So what happened? Hannibal tracked him down, came all the way here and killed his landlord. He was staggered by the effects of the facts, his lips began to tremble as Hannibal threw the meats he had cut into the pan.

He retreated a few steps, trying not to have a panic attack while the desperation increasing itself, but that caused Hannibal to stop and turn his head towards his shoulder. "I wouldn't do that if I was you, Will."

"I-I'm not gonna t-tell anyone, just let...let me go..."Will begged. How could he escape? How could he resist this man? He was powerless, and this cannibal was the opposite of him in terms of power. He could feel the power emanating from his body even before his hands touched Will.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, William."Hannibal said, put down everything in his hands and turned to Will. "But you already knew that." He took a step. "Maybe that's why you kept from me that you knew the truth about me."

His hands and white shirt were covered in blood, his eyes were black, and inside them was a hunter's expression. Will was surrounded in fear and looked at the remaining pieces of his former landlord, who was clearly in sight now. Heart, lungs, tongue... They were all painstakingly lined up and prepared to be various dishes on Hannibal's menu. 

Will gagged, bended and kept gagging after he covered his mouth. He hadn't eaten for so long, he couldn't even vomit because there was nothing in his stomach. He pressed his fingernails to wall, wiped his eyes, and looked at Hannibal through his wet eyelashes. He was a lot closer than he was a few seconds ago.

_He's gonna kill you._   
_He's gonna kill you._   
_He's gonna kill you._   
_He's gonna kill you._   
_He's gonna kill you and you're gonna be his meal._

He straightened and took steps back with ever-accelerating breaths without taking his eyes off the hunter. With every step he took, Hannibal followed him. They looked at each other for a seconds.

And all of a sudden, Will turned around and ran for the exit. The door was not so far, and although his feet faltered as he ran, he had to run away to live.

He ran, he ran, he ran. Suddenly, he slipped with the wetness he felt under his feet and hit the ground. He didn't stop for a moment, got up and kept running to the door again. Just as he was opening the door, one arm reached out from the side and closed the door hard, and then grabbed his waist. It began to drag him away from the door, away from escape, pressed him firmly to the body behind him.

"Let me go!" Will fought as hard as he could, trying to hurt the body behind him. He pushed himself back violently, causing them both to fall to the ground. One hand held his wrists tight and the other hand began to caress his hair, while the other's legs clung to his moving legs and restrained his movements. He continued, still teriffied, shouted and tried to free himself from the limbs that engulfed him. In a panic, he realized that what he had just slipped on was the landlord's blood and it was smeared on him. 

He fought for a long time.

Eventually, he powered down. His voice became quieted, his struggles lessened. They were replaced by tears flowing with disappointment and sadness. Every drop that came down from his cheeks contained what he had kept in himself until that moment. "I trusted you... I trusted you..."He whispered like a mantra. He wanted to hit Hannibal, to make him pay for what he had put him through, but he was exhausted.

The hand on his head kept stroking his hair without pausing for a moment. "You can still trust me."

Will couldn't stop laughing with sarcasm despite the situation he was in. "You killed all these people!"he shouted. 

His voice became whisper again, and he began to sound desperate, new tears continued to join the old ones. "You're gonna kill me too."

The air changed and became tense. The arm on his waist squezed, and Hannibal put his chin on his shoulder, uttered with a low growl. "Never. I'll never kill you." his voice sounded dangerously possessive and serious.

"What are you gonna do to me?" he asked, breathless.

Hannibal didn't respond and that was frightening, the obscurity of the future was frightening. The thing he knew best about Hannibal was that he was a murderer, and now he's saying he's not going to do it.

_Then, why was he holding him so tight?_

Will didn't ask another question, apparently he had no choice but to give up that moment. He could have try another day. As long as he didn't die, he had a chance to escape. 

So he let the arms hold him for now. They both sat in dried blood for a long time, listened to the barking of his dogs slowly settle down. As he continued to sit down, he noticed the aches in his body. The fear, the adrenaline he experienced how much exhausted him. 

His eyes slowly began to close while Hannibal whispering foreign words into his ear. In the end, he fell into a red and restless sleep between the arms of the Chesapeake Ripper.

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal doesn't seem to let poor Will go.
> 
> Maybe I can continue this...


End file.
